Ruffled Feathers
by TheSmokingMan
Summary: Sebastian and Jim's adventures with a mysterious cadaver provocateur named Edmund. Edmund has a business proposition for Jim. This is based off of an AU a friend of mine developed. TW Drugs, non-con, violence, foreign objects, blood, d/p. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Eyes on me, eyes on me.

The white walled and white padded and white floored room seemed to reverberate torrentiously with the thought flooding in Jim's head. Although this was a regular thing, it seemed so much louder now. Thoughts of how and why were a plague that studied him more than he would study them at the basis to which he would revel upon them; Red wire crosses blue wire, Schrodinger's Cat, what a silly thing, how are we held to this Earth, really? Gravity is a force, of course, of course it must mean something yet why, why, why do these mysteries follow Jim like a shadow, like his skin, of all things? There certainly wasn't time for that now, yet it simply exists as a constant and he has become so maliciously conditioned to it.

Eyes on me, eyes on me you fucking simpleton you know where I am you know exactly what's going on and yet Jim was stricken to a point where the weights constricted to his person known as thought and intrigue had been making quite the apparent point that it was time to sink against his bones and meat and tear him in half; starting right at the brain. Right at the knot of his spinal cord, where everything held structure, where everything reached a pinnacle. To be pulled and yanked out of socket into this scenario is beyond his comprehension. He was kicking himself for not noticing earlier the happenings and how suspicious all of this was. The mad genius indeed had been reduced to a level of stupidity to be humiliated by someone who was practically yet a child. It bore into his brain and left heavy black holes in his thinking, now, and he was flat out pissed.

He was trying to think of methods of escape, but, the room was sealed with one other beside him if he tried to play funny. Jim wasn't going anywhere and he knew it. He'd been placed in a chair, a very plush black one, surrounded by the white of the room how avant garde, he thought. He could only imagine what Edmund had up his sleeve in these following moments. Jim's face would not falter, he would not unclench his jaw, at this very moment he was the epitome of what was to be represented as danger. As death; because once he was finished here, Edmund was finished with his business and he would topple just as anyone else would. Checkmate.

It was almost funny, really. It was almost as if thought Edmund was the equivalent of Sherlock, but the opposite in reference to motives. Edmund simply gallivanted about like a child collecting corpses and death dealing but simply because he could; once he had gained wind of the great Consulting Criminal, oh was there ever competition at hand. It was very funny. Jim had to supress a laugh at the irony.

"And here we are, we meet." A voice rang, as if through a speaker, surrounded by nothing but the whiteness of the tiny room, the simpleton of a guard, and the two-way glass infront of Jim. "I suppose this isn't the most...pleasant of introductions."

Merely known as Edmund to Jim (for whatever reason), Jim had never heard of this man. This boy, rather. He might as well have been. Although judging by his demeanor and his offices to which he had been led to by Jim, he seemed to know the ropes of business in debauchery. Anyone willing to seek business with James Moriarty must, in any case, it is to be expected. A Necromancer, Jim might call him with a chuckle if he wasn't in such a predicament. An aficionado of the dead and Egyptian customs one might think so. Walls of his homes were lined with golden and brass sarcophagi in halls, as well as skulls on display. Very tasteful, really. Jim was impressed and almost tempted to take on his business for this fact alone. Edmund went on to revel on his indulgences with the dead, explaining to Jim the methods of preserving those who he has killed or have destroyed or will preserve for others, for whatever reason- Jim had no interest in this. He went about his own ways and he cared not for anyone else's. That was all fine and dandy but it was the least of his concerns and he wanted to leave after whatever this farce was was finished.

They had met before in the previous room, where Jim had refused his business because he found him feeble and that of a child. It appeared he was wrong, which was a rarity. He analyzed Edmund and found him to be very, very fucking annoying, to say the least. Almost a petty emulation of himself, it was revolting. Edmund had requested the business of Moriarty in respect to perhaps combining business, sharing profit and that of chaos, so to speak. Half of the stock that Jim Moriarty, and Richard Brook own throughout England, all of the dirty money and all of the hard earned cash and pelts, of all things, through out deposit boxes and Swedish bank accounts would go to Edmund if they began running this together. Edmund admired his work but Moriarty did not fucking share. This was his genius and his mission and his delicious dance and Edmund would not play second wheel.

"No, no." Jim had told him, before he was led into this room to further negotiate an offer (call it curious, yet curiosity killed the cat), "I don't think so."

A pause, Edmund wrung his hands in the large library (Jim was quiet in reference to it, he wanted one now and it pissed him off he didn't have one), his eyes flitting against Jim, watching the stone face before him look for a response. He chuckled, his eyes falling to the floor, smiling. "Pity, then. I would have very much liked to have seen your methods in action."

"Never had a fan before, that's cute." It was Jim's turn to chuckle. "It was a pleasure, Edmund but I'm afraid you'll have to find your business elsewhere." He turned to the door before being stopped, mildly annoyed by the persistence. Jim wasn't used to people thinking they could plea for his business. Begging for mercy at the tip of a blade, but never for his business; but then again, he never shared a moment like this. It was infuriating.

"Wait, please, Mister Moriarty." Edmund laughed inside his own mind at that, how silly he must sound. Yet, for all he knows, Moriarty could see right through his guise. Might as well play along anyway and see how far he can push it. "I have something that may interest you, really."

Whatever it may have been it doesn't matter it was all bullshit now. Jim cursed under his breath, he was without any idea as to what was to come, now. The glass was black, and he was only faced with the sight of himself. He wanted nothing more than to bring his head into collision with the taunting screen.

"Moriarty you seem livid. You ought to relax, I have a business proposition for you and I can't have you thinking irrationally."

Silence.

Jim said nothing.

There was nothing to say, he's already made his decision- it doesn't appear as if though that warrants anything now. He's infuriated.

"Well- I mean, either way - I ought to move along with it than leaving you in suspense."

A loud snapping noise was unleashed as what Jim would think was him hanging up the loudspeaker, followed by him discovering that he is on the observing end of the two way glass with the taunting face. Three lights turned on in the room opposite him, which appeared to be a gray walled and filthy dungeon, if anything. Tables with fluids and caskets and tools and whatever the hell else lined the walls, the floor stained with anything and everything. It was revolting and Jim made no sense of it. Two large support pillars of stone stood on opposite ends of the room, as if it were an entire seperate entity from the building they were already in. He didn't remember venturing down any stairs, so to see this savage and prehistoric looking room attached was baffling- but it wasn't important, now. Jim continued to set his jaw, intimidated and guarding himself. He's been through torture before this isn't anything new.

"I'm sure you can figure out this is where I perform much of my business, as I'm sure you can imagine there aren't many other places where you could venture to have a corpse preserved for the keeping without question." Another chuckle. "I digress."

Jim made no motion to respond, his eyes dark with rage, obviously there was ulterior motive and dreadfully obvious it was and he turned his head to watch the guard with his glossy and dead eyes, mentally keeping note of his pressure points and areas to which he could strike the much larger individual and take advantage. Of course there was no reason for the guard's presence other than another motive. Jim's head was beginning to pound as there was the sound from another speaker in the room, opposite of the one to which Edmund announced his presence. The sound being a heavy metal door opening in the disgusting cement room (the smell alone must be unbearable), followed by footsteps. Six, Jim counted, six feet approaching, a stout guard similar to the one that stood beside him, damnedable Edmund following, and a tall unmistakable frame, his head covered with a burlap sack.

_Oh._

Now this was something.

"You _cunt_."

Jim hissed, the first words spoken in this everlasting period of time that seemed just so arduous, and it was quite evident that it was to last just so much longer.


	2. Chapter 2

"Damn, I should have waited to turn on the light. Watching you get slack-jawed with surprise would have been great."

The rising action, of course; but how Edmund loathed rushing things. That was the point, wasn't it? If you are to built a construct then you must bring about patience and a plan of which to adapt to. To build upon, haha. What he may consider the most worth while waiting would be the trial of life itself. The long and everlasting days and hour and minutes and seconds he would count them. He would intricately plan chaos and deliver it as just his opposition would. He admired Moriarty. The patience this man had was astounding and he could only rival it, rather than attempt to match it. Perhaps that is why he's here today?

The inhale and exhale from the almost mountainous figure next to him was ragged and disgusting and he made it a point to step away for a moment so he wouldn't be touched by it. He seemed to be such a revolting creature, it baffled him as to how someone as empowered as Jim kept him around and on his leash.

Maybe that was the key word.

Edmund circled the man before gingerly removing the burlap sack on his head. It was a cute thought, though, he almost used a plastic bag but if he struggled too much then he could have died before they got back here. Certainly it wouldn't have made much of a difference.  
He revealed the patron, his face drawn in stoicism, his jaw clenched in rage. Edmund released a sound of approval. "Mmm, Sebastian Moran." The way the words fell from him were of questionable intent, yet fell like oil. Sebastian's eyes shot up from the floor, adjusting to the flourescent light of the room, seeking purchase in a reason for his appearance. He found nothing but the sheen black glass and it all seemed to make so much sense. Yet, as soon as the door to the flat was kicked in and he was pulled from the kitchen, he knew something was wrong with Jim or this wouldn't be happening. Jim wouldn't let this happen, and yet, here they were, held captive to some punk ass little cunt with nothing better to do than attempt to play Judas with the Devil. Edmund turns to a table for a moment, approaching it with his feet echoing in the large room, to return and place a leash on Sebastian's neck, tightly. Sebastian writhes at the touch of the other creature, fuming and sweating with shame and fury and rage and fire. His eyes turn to meet Edmund's as he spits on him, not moving to progress worse as he knew the guard would lay him out almost immediately. Edmund almost doesn't falter, more or less wince, with a chuckle as he turns away from Sebastian, wiping his face with his sleeve, handing the handle of the leash to the hulk of a guard, the guard making it a point to yank on it with a good amount of force, making it known that he will not hesitate to strangle him.

One in the same, yet, on a mission to destroy eachother. Wouldn't be the first time Sebastian was a bargaining chip, and probably wouldn't be the last; but being the nasty thing Jim was, he would find a way to get them out of this, somehow. Somehow.

Jim knew exactly who this was that he had brought in as a form of twisted bribery but still he almost gasped at the sight of him. It could have either been because they had nabbed him or the fact that he desperately needed to know what was going to happen next. It seemed painfully obvious but he still held that curiosity of his. Sebastian was still expendable but there wasn't any reason that Edmund needed to know that. Yet it was absolutely infuriating that Jim should see Sebastian in this manner, because it meant that Jim had failed. Sebastian was his lifeline in a way that was inexplainable to someone who didn't require a toy shield. It meant he hired a piece of shit that didn't work. His toy was broken and he didn't want to play with it anymore.

Yet here he is, not laughing at this cherade, not laughing at the fact that he is in there, because he is striving to pick up the pieces of the toy. For whatever reason. He could always get another, honestly; but this was his favorite, he couldn't do without. Not to mention all of that work of getting another one. It would be gruesome. Jim will have to do with a battered mangled thing once they leave this place.

"Cute toy, Jim, really." How coy. "I've thought about getting one but I'm far too busy." Edmund shrugged, clicking his tongue as he watched him.

"Here's the thing." He starts. "I know, I know you don't want to work with me. I get that." He raises his hands almost playing pacifist at the glass, approaching it (that makes sense, Sebastian thinks. He wonders if Jim is watching him. Eyes on me, eyes on me, he thinks) steadily. "In this case, it means I'll be losing a crucial, crucial part of what I had planned for me. For us." he sighs, his face unfaltering from a soft smile. Jim imagines clawing his eyes out. Sebastian imagining worse.  
"It's pretty silly that I will make no intrusion on your business outside of merely seeking the same purpose, in select cases, of course," he chuckles, condiscendingly. "Yet you refuse my contributions to your system. You're a child, Moriarty. Don't be ridiculous."  
Jim's hands ball into fists at that moment, becoming more enraged at the small man behind the looking glass before he hears the click of the release of a safety on an assault rifle to his left. The rage and the tension in the room is aflame and Edmund has tossed the empty can of gasoline. If it wasn't his toy he was going to maim and steal, it was his pride, that which he exemplified extraordinarily. Exhaling, he attempted to relax in his seat, his knee bouncing.

"All you need to say is, 'Sure, why not?'" Edmund replied, mocking the Irish lilt Jim bled. "And we can all get out of here and forget about it, right?" He waved his arms to either side of him, playing the mock-pacifist again.

Jim continued to say nothing, for an expanse of time that would not cease. It was either due to his curiosity, or the fact that he would continue to make his mark in this game that Edmund had developed. Another game to play, Jim was always good at them, this would certainly be one for the books.

Edmund turned to face Sebastian again. "So what do you say, Colonel? Sound like fun? You're spitting with excitement I can tell." he grinned at that. Sebastian almost smirked, mentally ripping Edmund's head from his shoulders.

"Think you're a right clever shit, do you?" his voice was hard, thick against the atmosphere. Edmund raised his brows in intrigue at the sniper's words. "Thinkin' you can break me. Ought to rip your bollocks off and feed 'em to this shit." his bound elbows and hands motioned toward the larger gentleman to his right, but was soon met with a heavy fist to the gut. Sebastian wasn't expecting it so soon and struggled to keep his footing as he doubled over for a moment with a heave, coughing as he attempted to keep his stature, the pain shooting into his spine.

"Don't be moronic, Sebastian. Your hands are tied." Edmund laughed, again, biting his lip at his own clever, clever words.

"So I had a couple ideas, and we can go about them a little bit while we figure out what we're gonna do about business, right?" He nodded to Jim as he passed the large plate of glass, his feet shuffling to another table toward the back of the large room, smirking at the sound of Sebastian spitting blood. Funny, they were just getting started and he's already bleeding. The table was covered in metal tools and instruments, used primarily for embalming and preservation. Bottles of this and that and chemicals difficult to pronounce by anyone who wasn't an expert in them.

"It's funny that the Egyptians used such simple and menial things to perserve their corpses. Palm oil, salt, little things you find in the kitchen. Of course I guess that makes it easier, but, it takes much longer. Wouldn't wanna leave a dead body out in the sun for 40 days, right?" He says this as if Jim doesn't already know. Perhaps another knock at his pride. Edmund hummed from across the room, gathering a select few things. He turns on his heels with a couple of things - a large pair of scissors as well as a large sized syringe. "The thing is, I've come up with a few things that make all of that unnecessary." He hears Sebastian struggle aganist the leash for a moment, almost cringing at the sound of him fuming again. "Don't be alarmed, I don't plan on using any of it on you. Just this little thingy I've thrown together." Edmund nods to the guard, the man responing by pulling Sebastian's head to the side by his hair to expose his neck, the other hand of the mammoth of a man grasping a hand around his windpipe, attempting to paralyze him from moving.

In all respect, Sebastian knew if he didn't comply with all of this bullshit, Jim wasn't getting out of here. Those black, cavernous eyes behind the glass, he felt them watching him. He knew. If he fucked this up he wouldn't be doing his job. If he moved and knocked the big shit and the little shit on their asses, then Jim would be shot. He knew. There was no damn way that he was getting out if Sebastian decided to fuck around. If Edmund were to die, so would Jim. It was a powerplay that had developed. They've been through trials like this before, but this has reached a cataclysm. He knew he had to face the fire. Before he could think, there was a terrific pain at the base of his neck for a long moment, followed by a red heat travelling through his blood and his skin and his bone at a rapidfire pace. It was as if he felt his soul leave his body.

"Formaldehyde and isopropyl. Just a couple things I had lying around. You're gonna get all itchy pretty quick here, so sit tight." The guard releases Sebastian from his grasp as Edmund brings a fist hard into Sebastian's sternum, the shock from the needle and the room and the pressure and from Edmund knocking him to his knees. "That was quick." Edmund laughed.

The small man brings another hand to Sebastian's face, once, twice, as if he were attempting to smash his nose into his skull. Granted, all of the tiny bones would probably find their way into his brain, so he stops, wiping his blood on Sebastian's shirt before remembering the scissors in his hands.

"I forgot to mention," Edmund began, catching his breath. "You're going to go blind in a few moments."

A little late for that, you prick, Sebastian thinks, attempting to blink away the cloudiness forming. His skin is on fire and everything is beginning to hurt and he almost doesn't notice his face being smashed in. He spits out a couple teeth, coughing and spraying blood on the guard's shoes, which, earns him a kick in the jaw. He didn't even intend to spit on them, he hadn't even noticed. Sebastian began writhing on the floor, craving relief from the irritation burning him and for a moment he forgets that Jim is watching. Jim is watching and he is watching him become useless and it is almost horrifying. He would never admit it but the absolute last thing Sebastian would want would be for Jim to watch him become a pile of meat and nothing else. It wasn't as if thought Jim hadn't already thought of that, but he was a pile of meat with purpose. A seperate ache almost grew in his gut.

Clenching his eyes shut, reopening them, black, then blurred, a flash of light followed with the figure infront of him suddenly so much louder, the deprivation kicking in. Cutting off senses concentrates the others and he fucking knew this and it was beginning to eat away at his brain.

"Don't make this stupid, Sebastian, please? I said please." A heavy poke at his gut rose a small cry from the sniper, followed by a ripping sound as Edmund was cutting his clothes off. "Try to make this as entertaining as possible, we don't want to upset Jim. He is watching you and we don't want him to refuse my offer." he grinned, and Sebastian swore he could see a flash of white teeth. "We gotta put on a show, entertain our guests." With a last attempt at rebellion, Sebastian spit red hot on the figure infront of him.

"_Fucking cunt_!" he shouted.

"Again! With the spitting!" Edmund cackled, wiping his face with the tattered cloth in his hand, moving to nudge the tip of his shoe against Sebastian's lips as he stood, humming with approval. "Such pretty lips shouldn't do such vile things, you know." Sebastian can't see the shoe probing at his mouth, he can't see the floor he can't see the light and he cannot see the placid glass.

Sighing, as if it were a chore, Edmund moves to finish yanking off Sebastian's trousers, his shoes and his underwear, tossing any remnants of his clothes aside along with the scissors, crossing his arms, watching him for a moment. Sebastian was almost relieved at the feel of the friction of his irritated skin. The pain and the pressure of the room caving in on his head, the pain rushing blood abashedly to his cock of all places, he grunted in irritation as he rolled against the floor, his vision dissipated into a cloudy black, as if he had forgotten what sight was. He had reached the ultimate level of incapability, of the inability to function properly. He would be nothing to Jim now without his sight. It was a sad tragic day and he has lost everything at this exact moment, so early in this game. He had lost and he would be gladly greeted with death but he cannot. He must strive to be sure of Jim's safety. He has to finish his fucking job.

"You look ready." Edmund sounded. "Well, half ready." he took the leash from the guard, yanking Sebastian onto his back, promptly placing his shoe on his cock. "I can only imagine the sights that Jim has seen you in. Coming so undone, it must have been fantastic." He's applying pressure now and Sebastian gasps at the sensation, deprivation causing the touch to amplify a great deal. Edmund turns his head to face the glass, curious as to Jim's reaction to all of this. "I wonder if he's gotten off in there." he chuckles.

A pause before a tiny gasp from Edmund. "Oh myyyy," he lilts on. "What is this?" He crouches, his foot still strategously placed, attempting not to crush him underfoot, not this soon, in any case. The slender fingers of his captor, touch a bevelled spot of skin, that wasn't really a spot more of his entire hip, practically, a massive scar of 'M' placed there, the skin dark and embossed as if it had been broken more than once. "I see how this is, this is no surprise to me. How cute, really." Edmund ponders for a moment on the mark of property, intrigued. He forgets his foot is crushing Sebastian's dick, lifting it away gives way for a strangled moan from the sniper, attempting to repress his erection.

"Well, looks like we're getting somewhere."


	3. Chapter 3

Property and ownership was a curious thing.

For what purpose is there to obtain, outside of personal gratification? Under what circumstance would a dog consent to being owned by a human being? Is it because the human provides for the creature? Tit for Tat, so to speak? Perhaps that was the problem - Moriarty wasn't human, far from it. So what significance did Sebastian hold to him? Why did he not protest this behavior? Sebastian held no sentimental value to him, he was merely a tired old gun waiting for an opportunity to be fired again. Perhaps the greatest infliction of indifference he could apply at this moment, within this trial, was to say nothing. He did not hold reason for his actions, or lack thereof. The spider was just curious to the predator that had trespassed inside his web. Perhaps he is biding his time. The spider is smart, he knows when to strike- he has been analysing this situation from since he was led into this room. With all of the new happenings, and the tricks Edmund has up his sleeve, Jim can only wait.

Edmund watched his prey writhe against the floor for a moment, grunting in disgust, blood flooding his nose and mouth. He merely watched him for what seemed like ages. The chaos was building and he continues to build this construct. The echoing sounds of the sniper's disdain reverberated against the cement walls and the speakers in the tiny room to which they were accompanied. Edmund smiled- Sebastian would regain his inner dwellings eventually, and he wouldn't want this to drag on for too long. Yet he would savor every moment of it. The blood and the terror of a triumphant brought a cinder. Although he could say that Sebastian has already been deconstructed by removing his eyesight- useless to Jim and the world. Edmund sighed.

"The thing is, Sebastian," he started, roaming to the back of the room to one of the many tables, digging around inside of a box. "This could have been anyone, really. I could have dragged anyone in here, and done all this. I mean," he chuckled. "Imagine if I brought Sherlock Holmes in here! To watch you squirm in terror as your Boss protests the destruction of him of all people, as opposed to you. Surely you couldn't be so...blind, to that, could you? Imagine the thought!" he laughed. He knew why Sebastian wasn't fighting. He knew that he was going to triumph for Jim, for whatever reason; he gave him purpose. He worshiped him. That was why Sebastian was here. "Your Boss, thrashing against the glass there, screaming, no, no leave Sherlock alone, he is mine to destroy..." he trailed off. "Right now we just know you'll last my twist in this game, that you'll last to fight for a delusion. Haven't you wondered why he has said nothing to protest your destruction, Sebastian?"

Sebastian said nothing. He was sputtering on himself, his skin burning, his eyes dull and lifeless now. He feels destroyed enough already. He couldn't give too shits what Edmund had in mind for him.

Fuck Jim.

Fuck Sherlock Holmes.

Fuck all of this. Fuck the army.

He hated his father probably more than he ever has in this moment, advising him with great purpose to join the military and become something, rather than a drunken shit living off of his father for the rest of his life. Although he would suppose he may have done just that, in essence. Sebastian's hair stuck to the floor, as he turned toward the sound. Edmund made a motion with his hand as he ventured back toward him, dragging something. The sound was so loud and so shrill and echoed against the dark cement walls just as Sebastian had. It sounded metal. Hollow. He tapped it on the ground next to his face.

To his surprise, the guard moved to turn Sebastian onto his back, his back arching as his erection was exposed to the air without friction- the sensation hot and throbbing.

"'Mmm. You've got such a pretty cock, Sebastian, I am impressed. It truly is no wonder Moriarty lets you fuck him like you do." This was followed by the harsh rip of velcro and fastening, wrapping something taut around his cock, a heavy weight lingering, followed by another of the same sensation. "I used to have dogs, you know. Very loyal, no surprise, it's what they're expected of." A pause, Edmund examining his work, Sebastian oblivious until he felt the cold metal rod, it seemed, pressed against his stomach. It itched against him, leaving some kind of debris behind; blood, rust, both, it didn't matter.

"The thing was, they got out of hand, out of control. I had raised them well, but it just seemed that they needed further persuasion of obedience." Two clicks. Footsteps.

"Jim, you might wanna watch this. Doesn't seem like something you've done before, I'm not sure." Edmund pauses, gazing toward the glass. "Although I'm sure it's certainly your cup of tea."

"You're a fucki-" Sebastian's own voice was cut off by the pressure and the sensation of the shock collars manifested against his dick, yelling in disdain yet denying the rush it gave him. His hips bucked, the shocks against his dick almost unbearable.

"These are very good for dogs, you know, Jim, I'm surprised you haven't given this a try." Edmund has a little remote in his hand, corresponding to the collars. This was certainly some kind of fuckery that Sebastian wasn't expecting. "Here are my terms. These collars are set at 6.0 Joules, that means high, if you didn't know," another chuckle. "And can reach up to 10.0. I would suggest you behave yourself, and if you make a sound, or move to manipulate your pretty cock in any way, then I'll press this button again." Which he does, to demonstrate a point, Sebastian writhing at the shock on his dick, traveling up his spine, the tendons in Sebastian's neck stretching, clenching his jaw to the point where his teeth almost break, if he were to press any harder. He's still bleeding from the assault on his face and he's being driven mad at the irritation under his skin, his seething spraying blood into the air of the fluorescent room. He's half tempted to tell Edmund just to fucking kill him. His ears were ringing.

Another flick of the wrist and the goon has Sebastian on his knees, his limbs like jelly in the guard's hands. He's dropped on the ground, his blood and sweat slick on the floor, his arse in the air, a sound of approval from Edmund at this. Sebastian feels exposed, his arse in the air like a common bitch, turning his head toward where he thinks he remembers the glass was.

Eyes on me, eyes on me.

There's a slender hand on his arse, carefully caressing the skin. "Makes sense to me now why Jim struggled to decide to get rid of you or not. You're such a pretty thing, it's a good thing he hired you." Edmund licked his lips. "I don't think I'd have as much fun with anyone else. So pliable." He takes a moment to spit on Sebastian's asshole, which, Sebastian himself wasn't expecting, making him jump a bit, breathing heavily against the floor. He twisted against his binds in protest, seeking purchase against his skin, but is met with another jolt of the shock collars against his cock, crying out in pain and sustenance.

"If you come I'll kill Jim." he is curt and loud, tapping the rod none to gently against the small of his back. "Keep that in mind, tiger." He spits on Sebastian's asshole again, moving to prod the metal rod against it. "Let's see how well Moriarty has fucked you into the bitch you are, shall we?"

Jim exhales, shutting his eyes for a moment, swallowing thickly. He feels so wretched and disgusting for almost becoming aroused by this. Watching his pet be manipulated by someone else- and yet, he is infuriated. Sebastian is his. Sebastian is his and no one else's. He has made his mark on the piece of shit human being and no one, no one is to be at the helm of control of Sebastian but Moriarty himself. Jim is almost infuriated at this point, and he is half tempted to break the glass once again, if he could. He'd be shot on his rising from the chair and he knows it. Perhaps the most he can do is look at his watch and continue to observe this trial. A feeling of failure brushes his shoulder but he does not acknowledge it.

A cry from Sebastian releases a whine in the speakers of the tiny room and Jim does not flinch as he watches the rod slowly get pressed inside of Sebastian, deeper and deeper and blood is followed with the slow and arduous removal. Edmund hums with approval before stopping, pressing it a good way inside, Sebastian's unsustainable cries almost choking him as he sputters.

"Hey," Edmund starts, trotting over to Sebastian's face, crouching to face him. "I said to be quiet, you." He waves a finger at his face, tapping his nose as he would a disobedient dog before pressing on his remote again, Sebastian biting his lip and clenching his eyes shut before bucking forward again, his cock dripping with precome at the sensation of being filled and stimulated. It's driving him certainly mad, a contradiction. The guard moves to lift Sebastian's head from the floor by his hair, drool and blood caking the side of his face, stringing and dragging from the hard surface. His eyes are dark, nonresponsive. Sebastian can move them, but it doesn't make any difference to his person. He may as well be a rag doll. The guard presses Sebastian's face to the front of his pants, grinding the blood and pressure against the bulge of his cock. Sebastian grunts, his hot breath certainly not helping with the fact there's a boner on his face. Held up by the hand of his hair, Edmund moves to Sebastian's backside, pressing his foot against the rod sticking out of his asshole, blood traveling carefully along the backs of his legs.

"Now this, I'm sure you're used to." he taps against the rod, Sebastian bucking against it. "Incase you couldn't tell, I'm sure you're very smart, he's going to fuck your face, Colonel. First." Sebastian grunts, another shock sent to his dick as he groans against the fabric. The guard moves to pull his cock from his pants, the heat permeating, throbbing against the side of Sebastian's face as he almost intentionally coats it with his blood before lifting his head, without a word, pressing it to his lips. Being the soldier and warrior he is, Sebastian makes no motion to move, resistant. This is resolved by the guard gripping the sides of his face, forcing his mouth open as best to his ability before he has to rut his boot against Sebastian's sternum, gripping his hair tightly before pushing his way inside his wet, slick mouth.

The guard moves to fuck him roughly, removing himself once to allow Sebastian to breathe.

"If you bite down," Edmund announces, tapping his foot once again against the metal rod, before reaching up and twisting it, releasing a groan from Sebastian. "I'll push this into your insides. Tiger on a stick." He laughs, pulling the rod out before pressing it back inside as Sebastian groans.

"Hey!" Edmind shouts, turning a dial on the remote, before pressing the button with unneeded force. Sebastian's cock is swollen and dripping, now, slick with his own mess before remembering there's a cock in his mouth and throat and that he cannot breathe. Truly the beginning of the end. The guard comes with a grunt, pressing inside of his mouth before Edmund rushes over. "Ah-ah- don't swallow it, don't spit it. Let daddy see-" (Jim was almost yanking at the seams of the chair at that.) Edmund observes him, the guard moving to place himself back into his pants, venturing to Sebastian's backside as Edmund smiles, holding Sebastian up by his chin. "My, what a mess you've made." He holds his mouth open as he dips his bloody fingers inside, gathering up the come that Sebastian has held there before carefully wiping it along his face and the inside of his mouth, coating him with it until he's a pretty portrait. "My God you're filthy. Blood and come all over you." He clicks his tongue, tapping his foot as Sebastian supesses another moan, the guard yanking the rod from his asshole. Edmund smiles that wretched smile at him. "I almost wanted to tell you to look at me." He laughed, pulling himself from his pants now, stroking himself hard.

"Jim I almost want to ask how you feel about how pretty Sebastian is. In fact, I will. Jim, how pretty is Sebastian?"

Nothing.

No response.

Just a dead quiet, the spider watching and watching alone. He almost seethes.

"Jim..." Edmund starts again, pulling a gun from his trousers. This is the ultimate moment that would determine Jim's protest to Sebastian's demise. Whether it be for his sick pleasure, or the fact he cannot afford to lose him, or whatever reason, his choice of words on how he should respond will determine how soon this ends.

"How. Pretty. Is. He?"

Edmund unhinges the safety, the barrel pressed firmly against Sebastian's eye as he continues to hold him with his chin, his cock out shamelessly. This will and would have never ended well. Sebastian exhales, come and blood dripping from him.

The speakers crackle in the very large and very loud room.

"Gorgeous."


	4. Chapter 4

Jim feels like he's waiting for a bus.

Impatient.

Filled with disdain.

Bored, really.

Bored?

Maybe.

But he won't admit that. Boring would be throwing on his best voice of reason and pleaing, begging for Sebastian's release. Which is actually kind of funny, he thinks. If he were to do that he would have to laugh at himself later. But that is simply out of the question. He has developed a theory that even if he were to open his mouth any more, with any sort of plea-bargain, any notion under a simple whisper, the guard next to him would become frightened by his outburst and shoot him upon impulse. Such a funny thought as well, he almost considers it. Merely because he is so bored and so tired of this. He doesn't want to leave Sherlock behind.

Jim sighs, shutting his eyes for a moment- the whiteness of the room is making his head hurt. It's ugly and stupid. He attempts to focus his attention back to Sebastian. He takes a moment to consider if he deserves his attention anymore than he has already provided, considering all the sniper has endured. All for Jim, how sweet.

He's interrupted by Edmunds laughing at Jim's response. Jim is pissed, though. He will admit to that. There is so much more he would rather be doing, things he has to do as well. Tricky prick, Edmund. Taking all he can get.

"I have an idea." Edmund announces, almost with a whine as he begins to stroke himself again. He hums as Sebastian's eyes begin to flicker around the room, as if forgetting he was blind, almost in a panic. The sniper's voice is hoarse, disturbed, yet if he were to even make a sound, his dripping cock would be shocked again and he would more than likely reach his climax, bringing about Jim's death. And what a trigger that is. Sebastian sighs, almost coughing. Everything is very dark...very dark. If Sebastian could describe it, he would probably say, "Dark as fuck-all. Gets all numb and shit."- something cromagnon such as that. He wasn't a moron, he just didn't (or wasn't allowed?) want to appear 'intelligent' around Jim. Granted he was much stupider, he just didn't indulge on his prowess much. All he wanted to do was fuck, and kill, and fuck again and gamble with a stiff drink. He didn't ask for much.

Didn't certainly ask for Edmund's cock probing at his come covered lips either. "Open up, here comes the airplane," the inquisitor cooed, laughing on the end of it. Sebastian's mouth opened wide as Edmund slipped his cock inside, brushing it over Sebastian's tongue, thrusting his hips forward as he played with the idea of shoving it in his throat. He played it slow, at first, a mantra of ill-willed praises as Sebastian struggled to breathe heavily through his nose, shutting his eyes.

"No, no, open those pretty eyes up for me. You might be blind but I want to make it seem like you're actually trying." Edmund's breath hitched as he pulled his cock from Sebastian's mouth, precome trailing behind it, Sebastian's mouth slack-jawed, exhaling roughly as Edmund placed it back inside. "You've already done this once today that I'm aware of, I figured you'd be a little more compliant." Edmund grunted, pushing deeper and harder into his throat and mouth.

"In fact," he stops. Freezing. Pausing for a moment, the only sound being the hum of the flourescent lights above. "Why don't you suck on it a bit for daddy." (Jim cringed again. Despite his inability or willingness to make any notion to end this farce, he was still enraged by his property being played against him.) Sebastian exhaled, spraying blood from his nose at the gag in his mouth, a heavy heated weight. "Pretend I'm Jim, shouldn't be that hard. God knows you probably have been this whole time. Funny thing you letting your master treat you in such a way. You shouldn't be too deathly surprised."

He took the moment to grip his hair tightly with one hand, the gun in his other pressing tightly against his darkened eyesocket. "Come on, get those lips working. I know you can. Jim probably wouldn't have kept you around for as long as he has if you couldn't." With his dead eyes, Sebastian looks up. He cannot see Edmund, but in order to make this trial and this torture and this hell worth while he has to do something. Edmund grins, knowing Sebastian can't see him, but the effort is worth while as Sebastian moves to bob his head along Edmund's dick, dragging his tongue along the underside. He sighs, moaning into the organ causing Edmund to let out a noise of approval, reveling in the filthy noises coming from Sebastian's occupied lips. He grips Sebastian's hair tightly, beginning to thrust forward again. "Jesus-" he removes his cock from Sebastian's mouth again, wiping it along his face as Sebastian coughs, taken off guard as Edmund takes the safety off the gun, practically jabbing it into his eye as he comes, coating Sebastian's face and tongue and mouth. Edmund chuckles. "Yes, yes, that's a good boy."

He drops Sebastian from his hand, the heavy mass hitting the floor, jaw first. You can hear the crack of his teeth crashing together, him spitting out the broken pieces, hissing.

"Very good!" Edmund said putting himself back into his pants, venturing to Sebastian's backside to finally remove the filthy rod from his arse. He does it slowly, Sebastian unable to help but cry out in horror. It doesn't matter, Edmund has long forgotten the nodes on his cock. It doesn't matter anyway, Sebastian isn't even hard anymore; they clattered onto the floor while Edmund was fucking his face. Edmund whistles, impressed, Sebastian's arse a gaping, bleeding hole now. "That's gonna be a bitch for a while." He tosses the rod to the side, carelessly. Sighing, he begins to speak again, dragging a finger from a trail of blood along Sebastian's thigh up the small of his back and along his ribs.

"Alright, Jim, I'm running out of ideas." He pushes his glasses up. "I don't know what else is gonna convince you." He shrugs. "So I've come up with a deal. You know, the idea I've mentioned earlier."

Finally breaking his silence, as he has grown quite tired of sitting in stoicism, Jim speaks. "And what could you even possibly do at this point to convince me now?" He adjusts his seating, the leather of the chair making sound in the large room, only accompanied by Sebastian's wheezing, his struggle to breathe.

"And so the madman speaks!" Edmund laughs at the irony. "Now, now, just hear me out." he raises his bloodied hands pleadingly. "I haven't changed my mind, you can begin to provide me a portion of your profits, something we can negotiate on because I know fifty-percent is a lot. But, you'll also provide me any weaponary, any technology you develop, and any terms with police, government and treaties at my discretion, which, of course I will purchase from you at a price I think would be worth my while."

"So in essence you'll be giving my money back to me." Jim chuckles. "Seems backwards."

"Yes, that is the point, that is why I think it would be beneficial to you. Not only would it be financially crucial, but I will also be providing my own services of crime on my end of the spectrum to accompany yours. A team, perhaps." he almost laughs at the thought.

Jim does.

How on this wretched Earth could Edmund possibly think that Jim would provide his services to someone else in any kind of collusion. It was barbaric and stupid and absolutely childish. If this prat is just that boring, then he certainly doesn't deserve Jim's attention whatsoever at this point.

"You do realize I am serious." Edmund almost...falters.

"Yes, I do, that's what makes it so funny."

"Listen you second grade theif-terrorist-"

"Second grade! That's cute." Laughing again, Jim doesn't notice the guard to his left bring the barrel of his rifle to the side of his head, almost waving it away when he does.

As if it were second nature.

Sebastian almost grins at Jim's banter.

Edmund sighs, crossing his arm, and tapping his foot.

"Okay, Jim, Jim, this is my final offer."

"I'm listening."

"I'm going to kill Sebastian." a pause, an unsteady silence.

It's almost as if the tension in the room increases ten-fold. "And you can leave, do whatever you want. I don't care. We can both continue to live under the radar, you can continue your little board game with Sherlock, I don't give a shit." he swallows thickly. "I won't disrupt the spectrum that has been invented by you; but Moran will die."

Another pause, as lengthy as time could possibly consume in this tiny room accompanied by this stone wall labyrinth with the two large stone pillars and the flourescent lights.

"But," Edmund begins again, suddenly not fucking around anymore, suddenly not smiling, not playing. "If you decide to work with me under the terms I have laid out for you, then you both can go, and I'll give you a call in the morning."

The air seems to disappear, and Jim seems to go quiet just as he formerly was. Just as if there was no air left to breathe. The construct has been built and formed to Edmund's games, to Edmund's disturbed pleasure, and Jim is at the door accompanied by his pride and his pride alone to fight with him to end this.


	5. Chapter 5

"He's so useless to you now, I wish I knew why you were hesitating."

Jim took a deep breath,

Inhale.

Exhale.

It was not a breath of anxiety. It was not a breath of fear. It was not a breath of hesitation.

This was over, it was all over. He knew it. It was just a matter of how.

How could he get out of this without meeting any kind of repercussion? Don't be stupid, you fucking imbicile, losing Sebastian is not a repercussion it's merely...a bump in the road. Yes, yes of course.

But he has been so loyal, such a good puppy, such a sweet, sweet little thing, oh, how he must ache to be held in such a careless suspension. It must be so awful. Jim didn't know if it was funny how tiny Sebastian was right now or if Jim was holding him there by this tiny thread on purpose. It didn't matter it was all too boring, thinking about it. Yet it hindered him. Yet he continued to hold onto what to do in his mind, as if...he didn't want it to be boring. Albeit dreadful, Sebastian was easily the one he could tolerate most. Next to Sherlock, of course, but that was a different kind of special something.

Jim hummed, leaning back in the chair, twiddling his thumbs.

"Anything? If you're not gonna say anything, I might as well just kill you both right now and get it over with." Edmund moved over to Sebastian, placing his legs on either side of him, tilting his head to the side, evaluating his heaving subject on the gritty floor. Sebastian, ruined, blind, covered in his own filthy blood, his own drool and mess, it was a pity. Edmund figured he must be useful for something, now. A footrest and fuck toy, maybe. But to Jim, he was nothing. And even if he were something there was nothing for Sebastian to hold a candle to to give any kind of relevance to Jim. Maybe that's why he caved so easily. Maybe he knew that today would be the reckoning for all that he has done? Edmund didn't know, he isn't the one making this decision (he damn might as well with Jim's lollygagging). Sebastian gave up hope as soon as his sight was gone. He felt like right fucking shit and all of his blood seemed to pool into his stomach, a heavy ache growing in his chest.

At that moment, he had lost anything that had any semblance to his life. His sight, his sniping, and Jim. He was no use to Jim without his capabilities, which his sight held all helm to. Fuck it, he thought, the skies and the days and the nights and this fucking cement room turning black. Fuck it all. He didn't even get to see Jim today, what a load of shit. It didn't matter anymore, he gave up. Not much point in sitting around trying to seem strong or powerful now, no one gives any kind of fuck about you, not even yourself. The only semblance of God you could withhold was behind black glass, watching you suffer and fail to provide any kind of service to him. Not necessarily true; he did suffer for him. Now, and he always will.

"Well this is ridiculous." Edmund yawned. "Jim, give it up, quit fucking around and say something."

It hit Edmund like a brick - of course, Jim would say nothing. That was his compliance.

That was his venture, that was his answer. A show of theatrics, leave us all in suspense, the final act. The curtain was closing, now.

"Oh," Edmund chuckled, moving to dip his foot under Sebastian's binds, tugging him upward. "You're good. You're very good."

It was a quiet morning, really. Jim had travelled off to this business venture, and Sebastian stayed at home, doing fuck all. The pile of meat on the floor grunted, shifting against the binds. Something felt awful in the coffee he drank, something about today he wasn't quite...sure of.

Something he couldn't put his finger on.

But he supposed it didn't matter anymore.

The guard moved at Edmund's notion to lift Sebastian to his feet, holding him there as Sebastian couldn't stand on his own. He was very gray, blood coating his jaw and face and chest, his eyes almost white as if he had cataracts. The chemicals fucked him over so badly, but he supposed that was the point of it all. He lifted his head, turning to listen for any familiar sounds- any lilts of laughter, shuffles of fabric, any familiar click of the tongue.

Nothing.

Somehow he knew this is how this sort of thing would go about.

Jim holding no protest.

"Boss, just get this fucking over with!" Sebastian shouted.

"Aha!" Edmund laughed. "He speaks! How cute, pleading for his daddy's praise, his needs. He needs you so badly, Jim, don't let him suffer anymore." another pause. "You've obviously done quite enough already."

Sebastian's hands almost shook. It was either from the shock (strange, nothing shocks him anymore) or a twist in his gut causing him to lurch over and vomit, suddenly. How pathetic I must look, he thought. To the almighty all knowing ones around him. Stricken into a chaos he cannot and will not escape. His feet shuffle before he's pulled, rather snapped back up to attention, a disapproving sound from Edmund.

"That's almost sad that it took this long for you to puke, Seb. As if you're emotionally stricken, Jesus." Edmund laughs, the sound echoing in his head like a throbbing pain. It's sharp and stupid and it's all too familiar.

"Jim." Edmund sounds, turning toward the glass.

"Yes?"

"So that's it then?" the inquisitor's arms out reaching with body language, a plea, perhaps.

Jim said nothing.

Only the hum of the flourescent lights as Jim did not tear his stare from Sebastian. The unknowing and frail Sebastian.

His toy was broken now, and he doesn't have the pieces to fix it.

"Okie-dokie, then." Edmund said after a few moments, shrugging before pulling the pistol out of his trousers again, twisting on his heel and turning turning to the beast of a guard and shooting him point-blank in the forehead. A normally much welcomed sound turning shrill and horrifying in Sebastian's ears as he fell away from the collapsing guard. The force escaping the back of his head didn't paint him in blood, which disappointed Edmund; the sniper was so pretty all red. A little more wouldn't hurt.

"Well, we're half way there."

A moment passed as Edmund reached for Sebastian, lifting him to his knees by his binds, facing him away from the glass.

"I have an idea you might appreciate, Sebastian." Edmund whispered, loosening his binds, the rope falling as Sebastian's arms fell like limp noodles, red and swollen. He could barely lift them, which Edmund helped him with, folding his hands at the back of his neck, elbows outstretched. "You're a military man, you might as well go out in style. Go out how you probably would have been if you kept up your funny business." He hummed, stroking his arms carefully. Edmund clicked the safety off of the pistol, turning to the glass.

"Jim, is there anything you wanna say to our dearly departed? Anything at all?"

This is what Sebastian was meant to do. This is what he was meant for. He knew he would die at Jim's helm- he knew this was bound to arise, it was what he signed up for. The day he met Jim, he met death. He saw death in his dark and hollow eyes that he had been so drawn to. And he greeted him with open arms, needing nothing else.

A slow, steady gait rose.

Revealing nothing. The monster had nothing to reveal, nothing to offer.

Just mere silence.

And waiting.

Edmund said nothing when he pulled the trigger; no witty banter or snark. He had just lost business with this shot. He just lost any chance of fulfilling any kind of business or triumph in the underworld of crime and success. Moriarty's pride won today, and no one else. It was all Jim would ever need.

"Well that was fucking pointless and exhausting."

Edmund waved his hand at the glass, the guard next to Jim replacing the safety on his rifle, Jim slowly standing, turning his head toward the door. His heart stopped for a moment as he wishes he had a camera to take one last photo of the pattern Sebastian's brains and blood made on the wall as he faced away from Jim to meet his end.

The guard would swear to his grave there were no whites in the man's eyes, his face as stone as the room infront of them.

"Jim." Edmund sounded as he unzipped himself, exhaling with a sigh as he pissed on the corpse at his feet, whistling in approval at the sight and the sensation.

Jim stopped, his hand gripping the door frame.

"You're a party pooper."

Moriarty paused a moment as he almost sneered as he was led out the door and up the stairs once again and was met with sunlight as he left the large house, beaming down on him as he left with nothing, just as he had arrived.


End file.
